Jack felt his anger rise. “That son of a bitch. You didn’t even have to tell me, I knew that’s the way that lowlife would operate.”
“That’s why I sent him to stay with my mother, like you said.”
“I wish you’d take the rest of my advice and call the cops.”
“No. I can’t. He said he’d hurt Nate if I did, and I’m not taking that risk. But don’t you see what I’m going through, how I could have screwed up? I’m terrified. You know how a threat like that must have made me feel. It’s horrible enough what happened to that poor little girl. But Nate-I told you the whole drowning story the first time you took him on Theo’s boat. I still have nightmares.”
“When it comes to you and Nate, you won’t find anyone more sympathetic than me. But you have to hold yourself together. You can’t be putty in the hands of some reporter.”
“I accept that. But I hope it at least explains it. A man threatened to drown my own son if Tatum Knight doesn’t drop out of the game. I was confused, not sure what to do, what to tell anyone. Out of the blue this reporter called and started asking questions about a conversation Tatum Knight had with Sally Fenning before she died.”
“You should have cut it off right there.”
“I know, but I swear, Jack, she already had the whole story. I thought I was helping our client by telling her that the meeting didn’t take place just twenty-four hours before Sally ended up dead.”
Jack gave her a hard look. He almost couldn’t believe what he was about to say, but somewhere deep inside him the lawyer had taken over. “Did you really think you were helping, Kelsey? Or did you think it was a way of giving your attacker exactly what he wanted: Get Tatum Knight out of the game?”
Her mouth fell open. “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of that.”
“I’m just asking the question.”
“The answer is no. Hell no.”
Jack was starting to regret he’d asked the question so bluntly, but as Tatum’s lawyer, he had to be firm.
Her voice shook. “Do you really think I’d intentionally violate the attorney-client privilege? I’m not about to put myself on the blacklist of the Florida Bar before I’ve even graduated from law school.”
Jack took a moment, breathed away some of his suspicion. She seemed too shaken by the whole experience to be able to lie about her intentions now. “Okay,” he said. “You screwed up. We’ll leave it at that. But what you did is still so wrong.”
“Stop it, Jack.”
“Stop what?”
“I’ve apologized fifty times. That reporter just caught me at exactly the wrong moment. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since the attack. All I’ve been able to think about is Nate, that little girl, and some psycho holding them down in this tub of bloody bathwater, their little legs kicking and-”
She lost control, and the tears were flowing. She was practically slumping. On impulse, Jack went to her. She rose, and she seemed to want him to take her in his arms, but he stopped. He was suddenly feeling more like her employer than her rock. “Hey, hey,” he said as he laid a somewhat reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I feel awful. I wish I could fix this.”
“Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right.”
He tried to step back and put some distance between their bodies, but she took his hand and said, “Are you sure?”
“The truth is we were going to have to deal with this sooner or later. Tatum really did meet with Sally. And she did try to hire him to kill her. The one item of damage control we have to address is Deirdre’s failure to include Tatum’s denial that he took the job.”
“Can I help you with that?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
They were standing just a foot or so apart, a little too close for Jack’s comfort. Kelsey had big, expressive eyes, and they were conveying a mix of emotions to him. Embarrassment. Remorse. She squeezed his hand and said, “It’s important to me that this doesn’t change the way you see me.”
He didn’t say anything.
She forced a weak semblance of a smile. “Do you think you can forgive a worried single mom for making a law student mistake?”
He considered it, trying to ignore the look on her face and the touch of her hand, trying to blur his memory of the one bright moment they’d shared together on her front porch and the nights he’d spent alone wondering what “might be” between them. It would take a while for him to sort out his own emotions, and it bugged him a little that she’d played the single mom/law student card in this setting. But he said what he thought she needed to hear, just words, no feeling behind them. “I can forgive you.”
She smiled just enough to show her relief. “Is everything going to be okay between us?”
“Sure. But the verdict is still out on the much tougher question.”
“What’s that?”
“Will Tatum forgive you?”
Forty-six
The bar was packed, mostly a twenty-something crowd, young sheep who would drink battery acid so long as it was two-for-one. Deirdre Meadows was on her fourth gin and tonic, sharing a booth with her best girlfriend, Carmen Bell, a freelance journalist and self-proclaimed poet who would admit to no one but her buddy Deirdre that her true ambition in life was to write sappy greeting cards for Hallmark. They got together for drinks every Wednesday, “Ladies’ Night,” after Deirdre met her deadline, but tonight was more special than most.
“Page one A,” said Carmen. “Nice work, girl.”
Deirdre crunched an ice cube with her teeth and smiled. “Best is yet to come.”
“Tell me.”
Deirdre checked over her shoulder, as if to make sure no one was listening. The booth behind them was filled with the usual after-work crowd, three guys shooting tequila while their girlfriends took turns trying the old teaspoon hanging from the nose trick.
Deirdre said, “Remember how pissed I was when my editor nixed my idea for a three-part investigative piece on Sally Fenning?”
“Yeah, budget problems, blah, blah, blah.”
“Well, no more budget problems. It’s now a green light.”
“Woo-hoo! You are on your way.”
Deirdre picked a peanut from the bowl of party mix. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?”
Carmen leaned into the table and spoke in the low voice she used only when trading secrets. “So tell me. Who’s the source?”
“Carmen! I’m surprised at you.”
She smiled knowingly and said, “You don’t have any idea who he is, do you?”
“Nope,” she said, and they shared a little laugh.
Then Carmen turned serious. “Are you scared of him?”
“A little.”
“Just a little?”
“Well…” she said with a roll of her shoulders. “I’m less scared now that I’ve talked to the police.”
“Wait a minute. Since when does a journalist tell the police about her sources?”
“This is different. This is a source who threatened to kill me.”
Carmen’s eyes widened. “He what?”
“Nothing. Forget I said that. This is a celebration. Last thing I need is for you to get me all spooked out.”
Carmen gnawed her plastic stirring straw until the full two inches protruding from her cocktail were completely flattened with teeth marks.
“Will you please stop that?” Deirdre said sharply.
“Sorry. Just don’t like it when my friends are getting death threats.”
“I’m being very careful, okay?”
“Good. And I hope you’re being smart, too.”
“Oh, I am. How’s this for smart? Johnny, I’m scared, can I sleep over tonight? Johnny, can you hold me? Johnny, it would help me sleep so much better if we could wake him up just one more time and put him right-”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said with a smile.
“Do you really get it?”
“Well, technically speaking, no.”
“Then that’s one more way in which my life beats the hell out of yours right now, isn’t it?”
“I hope you get crabs.”
Deirdre laughed as she fished a ten-dollar bill from her purse. She laid it on the table, then flashed the key to her boyfriend’s townhouse, and said, “Sorry to drink and run, but Johnny puts the chain on the door if I don’t get there before eleven.”